


This is a draft! Don’t judge me (not too hard at least)

by Loki_Ming



Category: Shadowhunters
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 21:19:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15228099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Ming/pseuds/Loki_Ming
Summary: In which Shadowhunters are not the only celestial beings, Ragnor adopted Magnus as a child, Alec is not what you expect and the world is split in two continents, Idris and Atlantis, the latter once the realm of a magical lineage that met a tragic end, and led to the birth of  the shadow world our heroes live in today..





	This is a draft! Don’t judge me (not too hard at least)

He tried to fight it with all he had. 

As his hands were tied behind his back, feet chained to the ground, Alec remained fierce, fury piercing in his hazel eyes. 

He was born a soldier. He was more than ready to face the most wanted criminal of the Downworld. 

Unlike most of his comrades, the young Shadowhunters had never wasted time chasing the most shallow attributes of life. He didn’t care for lust, as it constituted nothing but a distraction. 

On top of which, it would only bring shame and dishonor to the Lightwood name if the clave was to learn where exactly, beauty held a place in Alec’s heart. 

A realization of many years already. With time, the young man had accepted that his utmost desire would also be his undoing. 

He refused to fail. No matter what the cost. 

Maintaining the nobility of his name was his legacy. In order to succeed, he had to keep his record as the most effective demon slayer of his generation. 

This was not his first mission on the field. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last. 

 

Alec had been warned that Downworlders were famous, among other things, for their exceptional beauty. Warlock Bane was no exception.  
Far from it. 

Alec decided it was due to his incredibly long life, along with his powerful demonic bloodline birth. That was the only explanation. And most of all, the only one Alec needed. To ignore it. To turn this shallowness and cockiness against the enemy. Pride was the worst sin, after all. 

All that mattered was the mission. The holy mission the Angel Raziel had untrusted Jonathan Shadowhunter with. 

But even years of training, of facing torture, and most of all fighting himself were not enough. Not this time. 

 

Despite his will, he couldn’t help but drag his eyes over Magnus’s torso, length and length of tanned golden skin barely covered by crimson silk, the necklaces hanging over where his navel was supposed to be catching light of the fire and casting an ethereal glow on his face. Like this, he almost looked innocent. Almost... angelic.

No. This was utter nonsense. That filthy warlock magic was playing tricks with his mind. Alec knew he had to be more alert. 

He squinted his eyes, trying to get back focus, and regretted it instantly. Up close, the warlock’s skin was glowing with glitter. 

Alec guessed that hit on the head must have been harder than he thought. A Prince of Hell wearing glitter? He would have to tell Izzy about this hallucination, which despite the context was somewhat hilarious. 

He would tell her.  
When he gets back to the institute, the head of Bane in his hands as a trophy. 

Suddenly, a faint deep blue shimmering began to spread around him. Preparing to be burned, Alec shut his eyes and prayed the Angel. He hoped it wouldn’t last long, as fire had always been his phobia. 

The blue trail emanating from the demon’s fingertips licked his face, making Alec shiver. Droplet of sweat were pearling on his forehead, and descended along his shattered combat suit. 

But it didn’t hurt. 

Before he could think further of what spell Magnus was casting, he felt warm fingers, first trailing over the base of his shirt, unbuttoning what remained of the clothing, and then gripping at the hem of his jeans. 

He tried to look away and gritted his teeth. Voice dripping with rage, he shot a dark look at his kidnapper. « I have no idea what you’re trying to accomplish here, you monster warlock, but it’s all gonna be over soon. Back up is on the way. You better find a reason for the Clave not to murder you on sight, especially after you’ve held captive their institue leader! ».

Magnus’s cryptic expression faltered, as if he was taken aback or even... hurt by the remark... but instantly turned into a devilish smirk. 

Raising lazily his eyebrows, he leaned over Alec’s struggling form and whispered to his ear, his breath spreading heat on the soldier’s neck in a way that was far too pleasant for him to admit. 

« My, my, an angel with a temper. It seems I made a good catch for once. I might be entertained for a while. And darling, we have all the time in the world to figure that out. I hate to break it to you but we’re no longer in my loft. This is an illusion I put you under, and dare I say it worked quite the charm ». 

Magnus stepped back, and let his eyes linger on Alec’s body, shamelessly, as if he was trying to determine in which order it would be more fun to put in practice his dirtiest thoughts.  
Alec felt blood rushing too his cheeks and decided that the floor was all of a sudden riveting. 

As he was going to retort something, he felt he could no longer speak. He glared coldly at the warlock. 

« Hush, angel, save your breath. I hope you have your stamina rune activated. I’m going to have so much fun with you. Now would you excuse me, I have some business to attend to. Feel free to sleep if you can, you’re gonna need your strength », laughed the Downworlder before he turned away and summoned a portal, and disappeared through it in a graceful bow, leaving Alec in a more murderous mood than he had ever been. 

 

~

The portal closed with a deafening clasp that reverberated along the walls. Taking a moment to swallow back his anger, Alec looked around for the first time. 

Until now, things had happened way too fast and violently for him to really take in his surroundings. 

Also, although he would never admit it, the warlock’s presence was quite disturbing in itself.

Alec’s mind drifted away to the first time he had been able to put a face on Magnus’s legendary name.

The first time Alec saw him was on a 1903 picture in the archives of the institute, as he was about to be given the mission that lead him where he is today.

After the briefing with his parents, Alec had remained alone in his own office, door closed, and had stared at the file for way more time then necessary. 

This wasn’t, of course, his first mission, but maybe the first that held such high stakes. And unofficially, the first that seemed really interesting to throw himself into.

The Clave had received intel, from a downworlder they held captive, on the supposed location of the half demon, that no one had seen in decades, and untrusted the head of the New York institute to determine, by any means necessary, wether the rumors of his return to the civilization were true or not.

Propped up on his elbows, the young soldier inclined his head and squinted his eyes to have a closer look at the worn out black and white picture.

To be perfectly honest, even despite the bad quality of the image, it was quite a sight. 

A tall, imposant yet finely muscular body, wrapped up in noble and delicate clothing material, clearly chosen with a taste only an immortal being could take the time to develop. 

With the effortless grace and poise of a classical dancer, standing next to another warlock with an arm laid upon his shoulder, this creature with green skin and horns, he was smiling, laughing even, and an oblivious witness would take the fondness in his eyes as a pleasant mixture of sensibility and flippancy.

Alec, as averted as any proper warrior, knew that this charming facade hid a frightening beast whose main activities consisted in luring people in, trapping them by mirroring them all kinds of wonders, sealing blood oaths that were impossible to break free from, submitting some mundanes to their most sinful desires, only to leave them to die, starving, addicted to a magic that cursed them to their very bones. 

That when, of course, he didn’t fry them alive for sport.

Bane was an animal in a human suit, it’s every move calculated, and a single flick of its « hands » could slash a body in half. 

Face ageless, a mask of particularly annoying calm and confidence plastered on almost constantly, only to morph itself into a grin or an annoyed judging look when defied. 

Bane didn’t need to threaten anyone to be feared. 

The relentless fire burning at the core of his feline eyes, scorching flames hungry for flesh and souls to consume, was enough of a warning to whoever dared to face him. 

Alec fought to regain his focus on the room, as the thought of his enemy soon coming back set himself on edge again.

Finding himself alone for the first time of the day made him realize the gravity of his wounds. 

His entire body was aching. 

Looking down, it took him several seconds to acknowledge that, actually, not his entire body was in pain, as he couldn’t feel his right leg.

As a Shadowhunter, he was used to being seriously injured, and had already, at the age of 22, been exposed to more wounds any mundanes would ever survive to. 

The recovery process was already naturally fast for the people of his race, enhanced by the iratze rune carved into his collarbone. He would be fine.

Chasing these useless thoughts away, he cast a look at the hangings and paintings decorating the large marble walls of what appeared to be a ball room. 

So far, the only vision he had had was that of the fireplace facing him, next to the door. 

Looking up, he figured he was tied up to a brasero, which explained the heat of this place, which proportions defied all logic. 

A few feet away from his chains, a double king size bed (of course the bastard would actually hold him captive in his bedroom, Alec thought, furious) with feet the shape of human hands sculpted into rosewood, nails inlaid with dark blue sapphires, was disposed next to a gigantic library that seemed to be stretching out on an impossible distance. 

As if it wasn’t ostentatious - and Alec thought, creepy - enough, the frame of the bed was merging with organic pillars of a plant he had never seen, a pulse running under root-like veins the indication that the poor thing was indeed very much alive. 

It occurred to Alec that the disposal of this pathetic bed-shaped creature was particularly sadistic as it was shuddering with fear, being surrounded by fire.

Before he could continue with his investigation of that particular area of the room, a swift movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. 

He heard a rattling noise from the far end of the wall he was turning his back to, coming closer and making him feel the urgent need to cover his ears for fear of them starting to bleed if the noise would increase again. 

Wincing with pain, his eyes closed, his mouth let escape a desperate noise that seemed to cut off whatever or whoever was approaching in their tracks.  
Afraid to move, but curiosity taking over, the soldier cracked an eye open an saw the object of his misery, boring holes into his soul with glowing blood red eyes. 

By the angel. 

Alec had heard of hellhounds but never got to study them. He wasn’t prepared for that kind of threat. 

The beast’s glare was unwavering as it came closer to its prey, and to Alec’s surprise, a low but not unkind voice caressed its temples, chanting in a dialect the soldier couldn’t identify. 

He barely had time to register the psychic creature was casting a spell on him before sleep made his eyelids feel heavy and in seconds, the pain was gone, along with the world around him.

~

As the moon was plunging the bedroom into a deceiving peaceful light, all fire extinct, Alec was woken up by the hiss of the hellhound keeping him company. 

His vision blurry, his head aching, he was slowly regaining consciousness. 

He didn’t even recall collapsing. 

Though, it wasn’t really a surprise, he thought, when he caught a glimpse of the dark splash of drying blood soaking what was originally his jean’s right leg. 

Now, this limb seemed out of place, distorted and oozing with a silver substance. 

Alec did a double take at that. Had he been poisoned? 

Panic dug its way into his rib cage, adrenaline squeezing his heart. 

This made no sense. Warlocks didn’t even need to poison people, they were already powerful enough with only their magical shields and, apparently, illusions.

The words spoken earlier by the warlock came back into his head, making him feel ashamed at his own weakness. Bitterly, Alec started thinking perhaps he had underestimated his captor. 

His position was way past uncomfortable.

Gingerly, he tried to move his leg, still not feeling anything from the basis of his thighs. Nothing happened. This wasn’t good. 

He had been wrong. 

He wouldn’t be fine after all. 

Alec gasped as the lump growing in his throat made him choke. He couldn’t lose his leg.  
He would only become a burden, and surely would lose his title of institute leader.  
Having dedicated his entire existence to his work, and to his family, he couldn’t fail them. 

As the bright liquid shone outrageously, an even more unpleasant idea erupted in the young man’s mind. 

Maybe everything wasn’t Bane’s fault. 

 

The day before had been so full of events that he couldn’t recollect all that had happened. 

Or maybe it was just the poison... Alec couldn’t tell. His memories may had been altered.  
He couldn’t trust his own trail of thoughts anymore.

It didn’t really matter at the moment. 

Izzy was there, and she hadn’t been hurt. Surely she would be able to help him make sense of it all.

What mattered now was for him to find a way out of this gloomy place. 

Another hiss made him stop his overthinking. 

Turning his head back just in time to see that the demonic pet had come way closer, seeming utterly agitated. 

He froze, expecting to be beheaded by the enormous two sets of claws if he annoyed the beast. 

But the warlock seemed to have an interest in keeping him alive, at least for long enough to play with him until he got bored. 

So maybe he would only lose an arm. 

The creature blew its stinking breath on the soldier’s face, who gathered his remaining strength to fight off a wave of nausea washing over him. 

Standing still, looking him down the way a human would do, it seemed to analyze him, sheer curiosity animating its red orbits. 

Alec noticed the almost invisible veil covering them, and wondered for a moment if the hellhound was blind. 

He wasn’t given any time to sort this out, as a bright red lightening tore the silence, and a portal shimmered into existence. 

~

Ushering into Ragnor’s hideout in a hurry, Magnus dropped delicately onto the nearest table the vial containing a sample of the metallic looking poison his current guest had been infected with, and headed for his father’s stash of dark magic volumes.

As he was rushing to the enormous self portrait painting of his former mentor, flickering his wrists impatiently to counter the cloaking spell protecting a lead safe baring no opening, he stopped, hands freezing mid-air, as a shiver of dread rolled off his neck. 

The wards surrounding the place felt oddly unwelcoming. 

If they had let him in, they still felt wary, as if not sure wether this guest was going to bring trouble. 

This was odd. It had never happened, in centuries. 

But on second thought, it didn’t really come off as a surprise. 

Magnus had not come here in twenty years, and never thought he would ever have to. 

Many things could change in that span of time. 

Especially after such dramatic events as those leading to the warlock’s departure. 

Magnus couldn’t shrug off his shoulders the tingling sensation of being watched. 

Out of all the Downworld, only three people were allowed in here, and even, Ragnor being utterly paranoid in his last years - for good reasons, Magnus thought, swallowing bitterly - were aware of it. 

One of them would certainly never return. As for the other...

Something in the wards shifted, and relief washed over him, his magic now at ease with the place. 

Magnus fought the sudden urge to call out for his beloved sister. What was going on with him? 

He had been able to remain away from her for years, what had changed? This behavior was unlike him.  
Reckless, and almost... childish. 

The warlock shut his eyes and shook his head, trying to come to his senses. 

This place was messing with him. 

He had to remained prepared for an attack. 

After all, the house could very well have been discovered by another warlock, and apart from Catarina, he was in no rush to meet with any of his people. 

Or should he say, what used to be his people. 

Glancing around, faint blue streaks of magic leaking instinctively from his fingertips, he saw nothing but the achingly familiar tiled walls, the imposant fireplace holding fond memories of long talks with his adoptive father, and disposed across it, the worn green velvet couch he had spent countless nights on. 

Turning his head in direction of the opposite wall, his eyes set on the ivory and diamonds framed mirror Ragnor had received three hundred years ago as payment for rendered services to some famous and shallow princess who found the warlock charming.

Of all the thing Marie Antoinette could have liked about Ragnor, Magnus had never expected that.

He loved and respected the man more than anyone, as he rescued him when he was only a child but really, if there was something the older Downworlder wasn’t, it was precisely that. 

Charming. 

Though of course, if someone were to prove him wrong, it was Ragnor’s wife, Lyrnia. 

The both of them were always disgustingly affectionate with each other, their love never growing old even after centuries.

The memory made Magnus’s heart clench, but he couldn’t repress the smile forming on his lips. 

A rustling noise coming from the nearest wall snapped him out of his reverie. 

He heard a sound of unlocking doors, and out of the blue, the mirror disappeared in a blue smoke cloud.  
What came to view behind it made Magnus step back, jaw slack.

 

A frail and disheveled figure stood in the doorway. 

Strands of auburn hair strouting from a worn out hood, torn wings hanging behind her body like rags, the woman would have looked fragile if it wasn’t for the hard silvery eyes piercing through her frame like diamonds. 

She looked sad and worried as she leveled her gaze with the younger warlock’s.

She opened her mouth but no sound came out. 

She rolled her eyes, as if remembering only now her injury, and gingerly tried to reach out, with a skinny pale blue hand, to Magnus, who stood frozen, pupils wide, fists open and an expression of utter disbelief written on his features.

« My sweet son! », Magnus heard the loving voice of his mother in his head, and his eyes shut on instinct. 

Only then did he feel tears were running on his cheeks. 

« Mum...? »

On edge, Magnus shook his head, and in his distress, he felt his tail bursting out of its cloak and whip the ground, the sound echoing in the room. 

This had to be a trick. 

Who would be cruel enough to do this to him? His thoughts went immediately to Camille, though, she didn’t have such powers. Would she have allied with some demon again? 

His mind running wild, he jumped back as the presence in front of him reached further, looking more real than Magnus could admit.

« Magnus, it’s me, it’s Lyrnia ». 

Even the voice matched the image, but it was impossible. 

« I’m real », said the intruder, with an insistent look.

The ghostly image didn’t seem to want to disappear. 

Magnus tried to scan the creature’s aura but didn’t find any trace of an illusion spell or cloaking. 

This was impossible. 

Confusion blurring his thoughts, he pinched his eyes and covered his mouth with his fist as he took a moment to take in the reality standing in front of him.

« Am... am I dreaming? » the warlock asked, to himself, trying not to panic. 

« You are dead. You were gone, have been for a long while now... God...»

Jerking his head to the side, he swallowed with difficulty, a resolved look in his feline eyes.

He let out a sad breathe he didn’t know he was holding. 

« I get it. That’s it, it’s an hallucination. I’ve missed you so much, surely I must be loosing my mi-» 

« Sweet pea, I’m so sorry but you have to believe me. I know you have no reason to, and you have no clue of what really happened, and I don’t even have time to explain it to you now ». 

She looked genuinely annoyed, but by what, Magnus could tell exactly. 

« You shouldn’t have come, this place isn’t safe. Why are you here? » Lyrnia cut him, fear shining in her eyes.

« I... » Magnus swiped his tears with a carefree gesture, not giving a damn, for once, of his appearance. 

« I came here because I need information. From... Atlantis. I know this sounds crazy, but I think I have found another of our people », he said, and the look on his mother’s face was not what he had expected. 

She didn’t seem surprised. Rather... hopeful.

Magnus tried to hide his surprise, as he turned back and strode quickly to the table where he had disposed the poison vial. 

When he turned to show it to his mother, her eyes grew wide as she blurted out “This is.. this is impossible! Adamas poison!”, disgust engraved in her furious gaze. “Where did you find this?”, she asked, voice shaking.

The very sight of this substance was sickening, bringing back memories the both of them wished they could erase from their minds, as it had caused the death of Lyrnia’s aunt Terrea, on the night their kingdom was struck down.

Even after twenty five years, that night remained an intact memory, its shadow still clouding even the brightest of days for those who survived it.

Magnus’s heart ache as the face of those he lost that night appeared in his mind, the image lingering behind his eyelids like streaks of colors after a fireworks.

“I didn’t exactly find it”, Magnus laughed, using his eternal sarcasm to take some distance with the object of their concern. 

“I... stumbled upon what I thought was a shadowhunters, and only later noticed he had been wounded by this.”

Magnus’s eyes went from the vial to his mother’s eyes as he paused. 

“There’s only two people I’ve known who could get hurt by this” the younger one said, voice almost extinct, crushed by his own sorrow as he added, “and they aren’t of this world anymore”.

His tone carried more strength when he asked, after a pause, “Do you have any idea of what this means?”, genuine curiosity enlightening his handsome face. 

« I... I do, actually. Look. That person... Do you have his name? », Lyrnia couldn’t help but ask. 

She didn’t even seem to care for the goddam poison anymore, and the warlock noticed she looked like she would combust if she didn’t get an answer. 

Magnus’s bewilderment was growing by the minute. 

Not only was she alive, but his mother knew something. 

« Mum.. what am I missing? What the hell happened that night on Atlantis? », and he shrunk a little under Lyrnia’s judging look. 

He chuckled. 

Even after centuries, after having faked her own death, and reappearing without preamble in a critical condition, she remained the person who raised him, after all. 

And taught him not to swear. 

« I’m sorry. I mean, yes, I have his name. Alec. Short for Alexander, I presume », and this time, the older warlock gripped his arm, knuckles turning white. 

Her look frantic, she whispered « Miracle, it’s a miracle », and released her son’s arm. 

She looked exhausted now, an odd mixture of fear and relief pouring from her in waves of magic as she bite her fingertips.

“Magnus, we have to save him. Take me to him. I can help. I know how to prepare an antidote. After all these years... I’ve found a way. I thought it would be pointless now, too late but, but it’s not, not if he has a chance!” She exclaimed, and Magnus wondered for a second if she hadn’t been wounded at the head as well. 

“Mum, who is he?”, he asked, and his mother stopped all of a sudden, pain coming back in her eyes. 

She swallowed, and, lips trembling, lowered her eyes to the side, a gesture full of guilt the younger warlock didn’t see the meaning of. 

“My son, I’ll explain it all later. For now, you must know that there’s only one way to produce an antidote.. and you’re not gonna like it”. 

Her voice sounded eerie as she glanced back up, looking at her son as if he would strike her down for her very words. 

Gathering up her courage, she uttered words Magnus wish he did hear. “We need your father for this. And you know I don’t mean Ragnor”. 

Lyrnia looked profoundly sorry, and Magnus thought about consoling her, but her sentence felt like acid in his guts. 

“I see. Of course we do. Wouldn’t be fun otherwise, would it”, he spat, a humorless laugh dying in his throat. He was cut short by his mother who suddenly closed her eyes, exhaustion catching up on her.

Magnus’s shock was immediately replaced with concern as he placed his hands on Lyrnia’s shoulders. 

Her skin was pale and bony, and up close, almost looked like dry leaves. « Mum, we obviously have some catching up to do but first, you need some care. Come with me, and let me heal you » he pleaded, and he was met with a fond look he recognized far too well, as his mother nodded. 

Lyrnia squeezed one of his hands with her own, her other caressing Magnus’s face, and both of them took a moment of unspoken kindness, before the son summoned a portal with a flick of his wrist, holding his mother by the waist as they entered sparkling red lights.

~ 

Alec looked even more annoyed than when Magnus had left him when he arrived with his mother by the arm. 

Taking the both of them in, he rolled his eyes casually as if he wasn’t chained to the ground and wounded, and this level of sassiness inspired some respect to the young warlock. 

Not that it mattered, really.

“Hello there, I didn’t expect you to be awake so soon. Slept well?” Magnus asked conversationally to his prisoner, who, he was sure, would have spit on him if he wasn’t busy looking from him to his mother, visibly lost.

“Not that I don’t appreciate our funny little chats, demon, but if you are going to let me die, at least spare me with your attempt at humour. You’re not good at it. It actually makes me want to die faster, just so you know” Alec spat, but his eyes betrayed both his exhaustion and fear.

“I know where he gets his salt from”, Lyrnia smiled, as she sat on the bed, eyes closing on their own, and Magnus opened his mouth to ask what the hell she was talking about, but decided it was better to do what really mattered at the moment. 

“Try to stay still, I’m going to patch you up and put you to rest for a while, if that’s okay with you”. 

Lyrnia nodded again, and he put his hands above her chest, magic spreading around his mother like a cocoon.

He felt her relax, and saw her skin already getting a bit brighter. 

Satisfied, he remembered they weren’t alone as he could feel Alexander’s judging stare burning in his neck. 

He regained his composure, back straightening and yellow eyes glowing as he prepared to face his guest. 

“Seriously”, the young man’s raspy voice breaking the silence. “Is it too much to ask for you to achieve me now?”, “or do you have other friends coming over?”.

Magnus repressed a laugh, and whips of blue magic trails wrapped the brunette’s arms, forcing him still as he stepped closer to him, a menacing look in his eyes.

He lifted a hand, and caught Alec’s jaw not unkindly between his fingers, whispering “Sorry darling, no party tonight. I have to examine you further. As a bonus, you’ll sleep on a proper bed.” 

The shadowhunter - or whatever he was, actually- made a face of utter disgust, and as he was about to retort something, the warlock pressed a finger on his lips. If he was bothered by the touch, Magnus couldn’t tell, as he felt no resistance coming from the young soldier. 

With a smirk, he came closer to his ear and said, “I’m gonna save your salty ass. No need to comment on this. And you’re welcome, by the way”. 

He paused, taking a second to contemplate his prey’s beautiful features. Damn, he looked even hotter when he was mad. 

Magnus’s fun was only beginning, he thought, as he stood up and released his magical hold.

“Of course, don’t even think about leaving this place, but you’re not that dumb, are you now?”, the warlock said while unlocking the ground chains, and his smile grew wider as he saw Alexander blushing, apparently not insensitive to their forced proximity.

All the answer he got was another roll of hazel eyes. The younger man’s exhaustion was visible, sweat pearling on his forehead. 

Magnus swallowed and, looking serious this time, put his hand on his forehead. The soldier didn’t even move at the gesture, and he was burning. 

“Whatever you do, do it quickly, otherwise it’s gonna be useless”, the stubborn mortal muttered, his breathing sounding difficult.

“Close your eyes. And your mouth, by the way. I need focus when I’m working”, the warlock commanded, and before he could fight back, Alec went limb in his arms.

Magnus summoned a second bed and carefully put the heavy body on it, not without appreciating the muscular torso and firm legs feeling hard under his hands.

With a sigh, he sat next to him and was met with his hellhound’s scrutinizing gaze. “Don’t tell me about it. I have no idea how I am gonna fix this mess”, he said tiredly.

 

Magnus took a moment to watch Alexander as he was silent, for once, his chest coming up and falling down slowly. At least, he was just asleep and not dead. That left him maybe a few hours to figure this situation out. 

The words of his mother flowed back into his mind and with a flourish, he cast the thought away as he got up.

The hellhound followed him as he left the room and slided the doors shut as an attempt to think of what to do next. 

“I can’t believe I’ll have to see Asmodeus again”, he mumbled, and he was met with sad glowing eyes fixing him calmly.

“You don’t have to do this alone, little one. I can be there for you, as always”. 

Magnus smiled fondly, but looked even sadder as he said “Thank you Dotarius, but this is something I have to do by myself. We have quite a chaotic relationship and I don’t want to drag you into it. But I appreciate the offer”.

Both of them stood quiet for a while, but the younger one could feel his eldest radiate with excitement. 

Of course. The only reason why Magnus didn’t realize sooner what the last events meant for Dotarius, was because there was too much to be concerned about to sort it out. 

But his adoptive grandfather, despite his countless years of life, really had the maturity of a teenager sometimes.

Which is one of the reasons why, despite the “respect due to his elders”, he really couldn’t find it in him, after all these years, to call him grandpa. This sounded ridiculous, as the older warlock neither looked nor acted as if he was more than twenty years old anyway.

The other reason, was that it was really hard for Magnus not to be Dotarius’s friend, as annoying as he could be.

“So ehm, Magnus? You know what I’m about to ask you, right?”, the creature sounded almost laughing.

Oh by Lilith, he should have just stayed in bed this week.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, kido, but now that my daughter has miraculously reappeared, would you mind if I took a more practical appearance..? In order to, you know, not scaring the crap out of her and have a proper conversation with her?” Magnus glanced down at his friend and bit his lips, gaze fixed on the doors. 

He opened his mouth but closed it immediately, as if fearing his own opinion. 

“Magnus, I know you have every reason to be paranoid. But we’re safe in here. And it’s been twenty five bloody years, you can’t deny me that, can you now?” The creature pleaded, his humans eyes taking over the glowing red ones. 

“Damn Dotarius. You got me. But please for the love of god don’t do that in Alexander’s presence. He’s already annoying enough, I don’t need to see him gloat as he was right when he said I’d have more people coming over”, Magnus finally said, defeated.

“I’m coming back inside to get Lyrnia anyway, wait in here please”. The cloaked warlock was shaking with excitement as his grandson went back into the bedroom.

 

Really, Magnus thought, he could only blame himself for this terrible start of the week.

One of his oldest friends, Raphael, like him immortal at the difference that he was a child of Lilith, a vampire, had just lost his biological sister. She was the last member of the downworlder’s relatives. 

Magnus had cut all ties with his friends after the murder of Ragnor, feeling responsible for it and therefore, unable to protect those he loved. 

But he couldn’t fail his friend as he was to face one of the darkest days of his already gloomy life.

Magnus had so attended the funerals, from afar, waiting for Raphael to be alone before he could try to talk to him. 

Of course, the warlock not trusting anyone after the loss of his father, he had not come as himself but under the appearance of a random mundane.

But when the downworlders and mundanes gathered in the graveyard were about to say goodbye, the warlock had caught a glimpse of a seraph blade under the jacket of the priest.

And that’s when it all went south.

Raphael managed to escape his opponents, without realizing Magnus’s presence. The latter felt bitter as he watched him go, regrets of not having had the courage to face him properly biting at his sides.

He managed to defend himself without even needing to betray his warlock powers, and was about to flee when he was ran into by an imposant figure who, with a cry of pain, pulled out the burning blade he had been stabbed with and fell right on him.

As the warlock had briefly locked eyes with the wounded -and ridiculously tall - soldier during the battle, curiosity had taken over him and he hadn’t been able to prevent himself from abducting the now unconscious angel from the slaughter scene. 

At this precise moment, as he had to admit to himself, he had been struck by his simply beautiful features and, as he had a weakness for all things pretty, didn’t find it in himself to let that perfect stranger die.

If his decision had been firsthand motivated only by shallow desires, he then had been pleasantly surprised by the wit of the young man. Handsome and with bad temper? Proud and stubborn? 

Sounded like a lot of fun for the Downworlder. 

As of now, he was starting to regret his decision, the apparent assassination attempt hidden behind what initially seemed like a random burst of hate between Downworlders and Shadowhunters during that event leading him to think he actually did pick someone way more important than any regular member of the Clave.

As he was currently hiding as best as he could from this annoying bunch of brainless racists little warriors, he really didn’t fancy drawing any attention on him, and wondered how he would get himself out of this mess.

~


End file.
